


Perfect For You

by alexislord



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, I promise the cheating is not just for drama, M/M, all angst, but actually for character growth and observation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-02-19 06:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13117728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexislord/pseuds/alexislord
Summary: Stanley finally confessed his love for Bill, and they are dating behind the other losers' backs. But the pressure to be a perfect boyfriend combined with lustful feelings leads Stanley to make some bad decisions





	1. Chapter 1

Stanley Uris had done it. He had finally worked up the courage to talk to Bill, to tell him how he felt about him, and Bill had reciprocated. They had kissed and held hands and, honestly, Stan loved every second of it. 

But Stanley hadn’t considered what came after that. Now, he had a boyfriend. However, Stanley had also gained the impossible pressure of being the perfect boyfriend that Bill deserved, which he was 100% positive he could not do. Really, Stanley felt like it was just a matter of time before he did something stupid and Bill left him, and then they might not even be friends anymore. Just thinking about it made him tense up, a feeling of impending doom creeping into Stan’s mind. 

This feeling of inadequacy was why Stanley had unilaterally decided their relationship would be kept secret. Bill agreed pretty easily, and didn’t seem offended, but like he just wanted to do what Stanley felt was best. But that was because Bill was a perfect friend and a perfect boyfriend by extension. He held the doors and got Stanley little caring presents and didn’t even seem to mind the fact that Stan could be jealous or caustic when he was mad or unemotional sometimes. 

And then, there was the issue with general lusting feelings. Stanley figured that, once he and Bill were dating, he wouldn’t see other people as attractive. Usually, he tried to push those feelings down, get them out of his mind entirely. It didn’t do well for Stanley to indulge in fantasies just to feel hopeless and crushed. And the Ten Commandments very expressly stated that covetous feelings were wrong and a sin. 

But now that he was with Bill, Stanley was letting go of that control, at least sometimes. It felt so good, when he was with his boyfriend, to just melt into him, to finally let go of his inhibitions and to feel at ease, just for a moment. 

Sometimes, though, those feelings lingered once Bill was gone. Or appeared when Bill wasn’t even around. And it felt good to indulge, but it also made him nervous. Stanley would catch himself looking at another guy’s ass or his gaze sitting on their lips too long while they were talking, and then beat himself up for it later. It always felt like everything was harder for Stanley than everyone else, might as well add relationships to the list.

And he was afraid to tell his parents. Stanley really didn’t think they’d approve of him being in a relationship with another boy, no matter how much they seemed to like Bill. So he’d lie about who he was spending time with when he’d visit Bill, or lie about what they were doing. They were studying when they really were just cuddling and watching a movie at his house. Bill’s parents didn’t seem to mind, but they also seemed to ignore him mostly. Stan wished his parents were more like that. His father and mother sometimes seemed like their entire existence revolved around him, making sure he was getting good grades, being a good Jewish boy, and a good son. 

Today, Richie had asked him over to help clean the house while his mom was out. Every so often, Stan would help him make sure the place was at least liveable. And, despite how much they fought, Stanley and Richie could get along pretty well when they were in the mood to. So today, Stanley didn’t have to lie to his parents. He did, however, need to bring supplies, since the ones at Richie’s were scarce at best. 

Richie opened the door with a big grin and pulled Stan into a hug immediately. Stan was stiff at first, but let himself relax and hug him back. “Thank Jesus, Moses, and Joseph you’re here, Stanley. You might literally save our fucking lives today.” He released Stanley and the boy rolled his eyes, but smiled at Richie. 

Stan followed him into the house, got some laundry started and gave Richie instructions. They’d start with clearing out the majority of the garbage on the floor, clear it off to vacuum, do the dishes, which were literally all dirty (paper plates and plasticware had been purchased to substitute), and then they’d see if the exterior of the house could use any work. Stan explained all this to Richie, who was surprisingly willing and eager to listen. He followed Stan dutifully, annoying him, but also listening to him and laughing with him while they worked. 

And while they were working and enjoying each other’s company, Stan couldn’t help but notice how handsome Richie was when he smiled, how full his lips were. And, when Stan forced Richie to surrender his glasses for Stan to properly clean them, how beautiful his eyes were. He tried to push the thoughts out, to replace them with thoughts of Bill, but this wasn’t the first time Stanley caught himself acting this way around Richie. 

There was something between them all the time…a tension. When Stanley was younger, he’d assumed it was just that they had clashing personalities. But recently, it felt more like sexual tension. It felt like when Bill put his hands on Stanley’s hips, the moment before they would kiss, when they just shared the same breathing space, pressure mounting, air thick, until one of them finally closed the distance between their lips, relieving the stress. 

Except, with Richie, that tension built and built and never settled. They would bicker and argue and fight, and eventually one of them would leave or calm down. But the air between them always felt charged, and would only get more severe over time. Once, when they were younger, Richie and Stanley had turned a shoving match into a wrestling match. Their friends ended up pulling them off of each other, but it let out enough of their aggression that the boys didn’t fight for a couple weeks. It didn’t last, though. It never did with the two of them. 

So, despite the fact that things had started off swimmingly, Stan wasn’t surprised when they started turning. First, Richie kept bumping into him with the vacuum cleaner, knocking into his feet, feigning apologies, but doing it anyway. Eventually Stanley moved into the bathroom and locked the door, cleaning in there for awhile in peace. And he stayed there, until Richie came knocking, finished with vacuuming, apologizing, and handing Stanley a towel, inviting him to join in doing the dishes. The sheepish grin on Richie’s face was enough to melt away the frustration Stanley felt for at least the moment. 

It also made Stanley’s heart flutter in a way he was trying to ignore. They were doing dishes, Stanley washing, while Richie was drying. Which, unfortunately for Stanley, meant Richie had an excess of time to do voices and make stupid jokes, while Stan made sure every inch of every plate and cup was clean. 

The real trouble started, though, when Richie got the brilliant idea to wind up the rag he was using to dry, and whip Stan with it. That made Stanley go from 0 to 100 right fast. “What in the hell is wrong with you, Richie? Knock this shit off, right now.” 

Richie held up his hands, surrendering, but as soon as Stanley resumed, Richie snapped at him again, this time hard. The rag hit him in the leg, which immediately buckled, muscles tensing in his thigh as he fell on his knee. Richie’s eyes immediately widened in fear, as he fell to his knees, saying, “Holy shit, Stan. Oh, fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you okay?”

At this last statement, Richie put his hand on Stanley’s shoulder, but immediately it was smacked away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” Stanley said, still looking at the ground. 

Richie backed off a little and stood up, but kept talking, worried at how aggressively Stan was reacting. “I am really sorry, Stan. I really didn’t think that would….”

He was interrupted, shocked as Stanley whipped around to him, standing and closing the distance between them quickly, shoving Richie, while yelling, “Shut the fuck up, Richie!”

Richie didn’t respond, taken aback by the amount of rage in Stanley’s tone. It was much more severe than usual. It scared him into listening to Stanley’s command and he kept his mouth shut. Stanley shook his head and paced as he ranted. “I can’t believe you are like this. You ask me over to help you clean your disgusting house. I accept because I’m your friend and I know this is hard for you to do. And then, even after I’ve told you to stop fucking with me, you just CAN’T, can you?”

At the last statement, Stanley pushed Richie again, which made Richie recoil, and push Stanley back. Before Richie could respond, Stanley bull rushed him, pushing him up against a wall and pinning him there. Richie tried squirming, but there was no escape. Stan was stronger than he looked. 

“Stanley, what the fuck? I said I was sorry, now let me down, god damn it!” Richie struggled, but didn’t try anything aggressive, not wanting to injure Stan any more than he already had. 

“No, not until you swear on your life that you aren’t gonna pull those fucking stunts again. I’m sick of your childishness and, if it happens again, I am leaving, and you can live here in your filth,” Stan replied. 

Both boys’ hearts were racing. They both caught their breath while Richie considered the deal, the frustration of the moment slowly draining away. Finally Richie sighed and promised. “I won’t try to hurt you or mess with you any more today, okay? I am sorry. You came over to be nice, and I’ve been an asshole.”

Richie’s apology was earnest, the look in his eyes sincere, almost to the point where Stan thought his friend might start crying. He seemed worried and wounded, emotionally more than physically. Stan relaxed his grip, but didn’t move his hands from Richie’s shoulders. 

It was then that he realized how close they really were, faces just an inch or two apart. The way his hands were placed, Stan could feel Richie’s collar bone beneath his fingers. Something in Stan morphed, the feelings of frustration and sexual tension merging, the air between them thick, but inviting somehow. 

Richie hadn’t moved, hadn’t said anything yet, but he was looking over Stanley’s face, brow furrowing. Finally, he said, “well Stanley, at this point, you’ve either got to let me go, or kiss me. And I think we both know which one you’d rather do.”

And, before Stanley’s rationally centered brain could make the rational decision to let Richie go, his lips landed themselves on Richie’s, hungry and wanting. Richie was shocked at first, but pulled Stan towards him quickly, his arms snaking their way around Stanley’s waist. After a few minutes, the boys came up for air, hearts pounding. Richie laughed and said, “well, I guess I didn’t actually know which option you wanted more.”

This should have been the moment that he stopped it, Stanley thought. Richie didn’t know he was dating Bill, but Stan sure did. If he stopped now, this could all be explained away, right? It was a momentary slip, an accident. But he didn’t. Stanley whispered back, “do you wish I’d just let you go?” 

Richie shook his head and pulled Stanley into him, lips locked again, desperately kissing each other’s, as Richie guided Stanley to the couch. They sat first, lips and tongues intertwining, as they navigated this new, strange and exciting dynamic. Stanley took the lead, pushing Richie down on the couch and holding him there, like he had before on the wall. Stanley moved from kissing Richie’s lips down to his neck, sucking and biting hard enough that it was sure to leave a hickey and some bite marks. Richie was breathless, Stanley’s name escaping his lips in a soft moan. 

This was far more aggressive than Stan ever was with Bill. They had kissed, held each other, made out all of once. But even then, it had been soft and sweet, both of them testing the waters one toe touch at a time. And Stan enjoyed all of it, but there wasn’t the wanton need he felt while straddling Richie. This was something raw and animalistic, like Stan couldn’t get close enough to Richie. 

Richie pulled Stanley back to his lips, sitting up with him, and leaving Stanley’s lips to go for his neck. Stanley let him kiss, suck and bite there for a minute, before realizing Bill would notice the marks, and pushing Richie away. “No hickies, don’t leave any marks,” he instructed. 

Nodding, Richie moved back to his lips, assuming it was something to do with his parents or their friends noticing. While still kissing, Richie pulled Stanley’s tucked polo out of his shorts and pulled away from his lips. “I could give you a hickey where no one would see it,” he said, hands under Stanley’s shirt, the cold touch giving Stanley chills and goosebumps, as he bit his lip, his head falling back. “No one has to know,” Richie finished, winking at Stanley, but waiting for permission. 

But it wouldn’t come. The sentence “no one has to know,” echoed in Stanley’s head, as the passion and tension he had felt was satisfied, and overcome by a cresting wave of guilt. It crashed over him, filling him with shame, fear, and disgust. What was he doing right now? Stanley had a boyfriend he loved, a wonderful, perfect boyfriend, who would have never done something like this to him. 

And Stanley knew instantly that he couldn’t keep this a secret, that the guilt of his actions would eat him alive. He wasn’t sure he could even talk to Bill again after this, let alone date him and pretend like everything was normal and good. 

And what was Richie gonna think? That they were dating now? Hooking up? That getting into arguments with him was foreplay? 

Stanley had ruined not one of his friendships, but two in one fell swoop. At least no one could say he wasn’t efficient. 

Richie looked at Stanley thinking, concerned, and asked, “hey Stan, are you alright?” He reached out to put his hand on Stanley’s face, to aim it towards Richie’s own, to catch his gaze, but Stanley recoiled from the touch as if it had burnt him. 

Stanley stood up quickly and said, “I-I-I have to go. Right now. I can’t. I’ve fucked everything up.” 

And with that, Stan ran out of Richie’s house and hopped on his bike faster than Richie could even respond. He hadn’t even taken his cleaning supplies with him. Richie got up and ran to the open door, calling after him, but Stanley was already on his bike, pedaling as hard and fast as he could. 

Stanley funnelled all his emotions into pedaling, forcing himself not to cry until he finished what he needed to do. He gripped his handlebars as tightly as he could, his manicured fingernails digging into his skin. It was painful, but Stanley felt he deserved to be in pain right now. He was about to cause a lot of pain, the least he could do was suffer himself some. And it kept Stan in the moment, which he needed to be for what he was about to do.


	2. Guilt Burned Into Your Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie gets a call from a crying Bill and wonders why his friends are all acting so weird.

An hour after Stanley left, Richie tried cleaning up the rest of his house, but he didn’t know what to do. He could only think about, and try to figure out, what had just happened with Stanley. Had Richie done something wrong? Was he ashamed of his feelings? What even were Stan’s feelings? Or Richie’s, for that matter? Just thinking about everything that happened was making Richie’s head hurt. 

A ringing sound cut through the air and Richie’s jumbled thoughts. He walked over to grab the phone. Maybe Stanley was calling? But when he picked it up, Richie wasn’t greeted by a voice so much as a crying, stuttering mess. It was Bill. Something was wrong; he could barely get his words out through his tears. 

Not having understood most of what he had said, Richie simply interrupted, saying, “look Bill, I can’t decipher this over the phone, but I’m on my way over right now. So just breathe, buddy, and I’ll be there as fast as my legs will allow.”

Richie hung up the phone and went straight for his bike. What was happening to everyone today? Stanley trying to jump his bones and Richie hadn’t heard Bill cry like that since they had found Georgie’s raincoat in the sewer. There was some strange juju in the air, and Richie just hoped the other losers were doing alright. Two freaking out at once was all he could handle. 

Derry was a pretty small, compact town, so in less than ten minutes, he was able to make it to Bill’s door. Richie jumped of his bike, letting it fall down naturally on the lawn, and knocked on the door, rapidly and loudly. 

Bill opened it quickly, tears streaming down his cheeks. Richie stepped in and pulled Bill into a tight hug immediately. Bill simply cried on his shoulder and hugged him back. 

The boys stayed this way for almost twenty minutes before Bill felt like his tears had run out and he could talk again. They moved to his couch and Richie said, “now Bill, you don’t have to explain what has turned you into a weeping, sobbing mess, but if you’d like to share, I’m all ears.”

Richie was clearly trying to lighten the mood, but the concern was still clear in his voice and on his face. Bill sighed, taking a deep breath before speaking, still looking mildly reticent to do so, but surrendering. “Stan and I have b-b-been dating for a couple months and he j-j-j-just stopped by and b-b-broke up with me. And he w-w-wouldn’t tell me w-why.” Tears started falling from his eyes again, but Bill wiped them away forcibly, taking another deep breath. 

For the first time in his life, Richie was properly speechless. The last thing he would have guessed was that Stan and Bill were dating. They hadn’t behaved any differently that he could have noticed. But that explained why Stanley had run out on him so quickly after shoving his tongue in Richie’s throat. 

But what this really all meant was that Richie was fucked. Bill was never gonna be his friend again when he realized that Richie was the reason he didn’t have a boyfriend anymore. It felt like a knife in Richie’s heart once he realized that Bill was crying because of him. Stanley’s question echoed in his mind. Do you wish I’d just let you go? Now Richie wasn’t sure who he’d really been talking to, himself or Richie. Maybe it had been both. 

Richie was also painfully aware now of the hickeys he definitely had on his neck. He’d left his place so quickly to come make Bill feel better that Richie hadn’t even thought about wearing anything else to cover it up. He tensed his shoulders, hoping that would help, but was filled with an impending sense of dread and a desperate need to get out of that house. 

Which also just made Richie feel like shit. Bill was devastated, crying, had just admitted a huge secret to him, and all Richie wanted to do was leave the house because he was fucking guilty. Yeah, Bill definitely deserved better than the asshole sitting with him right now. 

“Oh wow, I had no idea, Billy boy. You guys had been keeping that secret pretty well,” Richie said, getting up to walk around the room so Bill couldn’t look at his face as much. “And you said Stanley the manly didn’t say why he broke up with you?” Richie held his hand on his neck as he said this, scratching from nerves and trying to hide the hickeys. 

“I didn’t w-w-want to, but Stan said we should k-keep it a s-secret. At least at f-f-first,” Bill sighed, wondering if he had been embarrassed to call Bill his boyfriend and then decided their relationship just wasn’t worth it. 

Despite being upset, Bill did notice Richie was acting really weird. The lack of curse words at the big reveal and his random wandering was very uncharacteristic. Richie seemed more nervous about it than surprised, really. “Are you alr-right, Richie? W-what’s on your n-neck?”

Richie’s eyes grew super wide, trying to think of an excuse. But it’s not like Bill didn’t know what hickeys looked like. Richie took his hand off of his neck and looked down, but tried to sound confident when he spoke. “Just...you know.”

“Who gave you those? Y-you have a secret boyfriend or girlfriend, too?” Bill asked, teasing and smiling a bit. He was happy to be distracted by anything at the moment. 

Richie shook his head violently, looking even more tense. Was he nervous about who had given him those? Bill didn’t know why he would be, but it was intriguing him. 

“NO, no, no, no, no. This is just from...you don’t even know the person. They’re from out of town. So, Stan wouldn’t talk to you? He just left?” Richie asked, trying to push the conversation back on Bill before Richie did something that would get him killed. Bill had punched Richie before and he didn’t want to get punched again. 

Bill nodded, looking at the ground. “He just said that I deserved b-better and to not call or t-try and f-follow him, and then he l-left.” 

Richie kneeled down next to Bill, putting his hand on Bill’s knee. “Here’s what we can do. I’ll go over to Stanley’s and talk to him, but I don’t want to leave you here alone, so we’ll call Eddie and see if he can come over. How does that sound?”

Bill looked Richie in the eye and asked, “are you s-sure? I d-d-don’t think he’s g-gonna talk to you, either.”

Richie sighed and replied in one of his voices, “I think I can crack him, Big Bill. Just give me a shot!”

Bill smiled and looked away. Richie almost seems like he was back to normal. Almost. “O-okay, s-sounds like a plan.”

Richie smiled and went to get up, but stopped himself. “I’m really glad to have you as my friend, Bill. I just want you to know.”

“Thanks, Richie,” Bill answered, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Y-you too.”

Richie looked down, nodding. He pushed himself up and went to the phone to call Eddie. He answered and said he was available to come over to console Bill. Which meant it was finally time for Richie to leave.

Bill walked Richie to the door, and waved goodbye. Richie started walking away, but turned around and rushed over to Bill, pulling him into a tight, quick hug. Bill looked confused, but Richie just wanted to hug him again...for what might be the last time. 

“See ya, l-later!” Bill called, but Richie wasn’t sure he would.


	3. Hurts Both Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie goes to Stan's place to confront him about lying.

Richie road his bike to Stanley’s house, not really sure what he was going to do. All of this was really fucked up and he’d already had to lie to Bill. So going to see Stanley was the only solution. 

Richie left his bike on the street, not wanting to mess up the Uris’ lawn. Stan had asked him multiple times to do so and he was finally listening, on today of all days.

He took a few deep breaths, before finally pounding on the door. No response. So Richie pounded again. Still no response. This time Richie pounded with all his force and shouted, “Stan, open up, I know you’re in there!” 

The door started to open and Richie heard Stan before he saw him, saying, “Bill, I told you, I don’t want….” He stopped abruptly when he realized it was Richie he was actually speaking to. “Oh, Richie, what in the hell are you doing here?”

Richie sighed and said, “well, I was sitting at home being really fucking confused as to why you were all over me, and then ran away….”

Before he could finish, Stanley cut him off. “Can you just forget about it and leave me alone? It was a stupid fucking mistake and I don’t….”

But Richie cut him off right back. “Bill called me, Stanley. He was crying. And when I got there, he told me you broke up with him. Which was weird because not only did I not know you two assholes were dating, but I had fucking hickies on my neck from you when I went to console him.”

Stan buried his face in his hands, trying to hide for a moment, while a couple tears fell through his fingers. This was his own personal hell. He looked up at Richie, hands balled into fists at his sides. “Look, if you came here to make me feel like shit, then you can just leave, okay? All I’ve done is just make mistake after goddamn mistake and I can tear myself down perfectly well on my own, thanks.” 

Richie had come to Stan’s place confused, angry and scared. He was confused about the whole situation, frustrated that Stanley had involved him in this and terrified that his best friend, Bill, was going to hate him forever. But hearing Stanley talk so negatively about himself, seeing on his face that he truly believed everything he was saying, replaced all his negative feelings with just one. Richie was worried about Stanley.

The statement might not have been true on the ride to Stanley’s house or even a moment before Stanley spoke the words, but Richie knew he was telling the truth now, when he said, “I’m not here to yell at you, Stanley. I’m here to figure out what the fuck is going on. Something is clearly wrong with you and we need to talk about it.”

Stanley softened just slightly at his friend’s genuine concern, and left the door open, walking into the house, allowing Richie to close it and follow behind. Stan sat on the couch and buried his head in his hands again, trying to keep pressure on his eyes, thinking that’d keep the tears in. It didn’t. 

When Stanley looked up at Richie, tears had fallen down his face, landing on the couch beneath them. There was desperation and exasperation in his voice, as Stanley explained, “I just, I can’t do it. I keep trying...to be what everyone wants me to be...to be what I want to be. And I can’t. It’s impossible.”

Richie nodded, listening, but growing more confused by the second. “What does everyone want you to be?” 

“Perfect,” Stanley said, looking at Richie like nothing could have been more obvious. “My parents want me to get perfect grades, even an A- isn’t good enough for them. My dad wants me to be a perfect Jew and rabbi’s son. My OCD wants everything to be perfect, in its perfect place, clean, orderly and correct. And Bill was the perfect boyfriend and deserves a perfect boyfriend back. And I can’t do any of it.”

“Did Bill ask you to be a perfect boyfriend, or did you just expect yourself to be because you think he is?” Richie asked. 

Stanley looked at him with what could only be described as malice in his eyes. “No, he didn’t ask me to, but I can assure you he at least wants a boyfriend who won’t cheat on him and if I can’t even do that, how can I hope to even be an adequate boyfriend, let alone a good boyfriend, let alone anywhere near what Bill deserves in a boyfriend?!”

Stanley’s hands were in his hair, frustration evident on his face, tears falling again. “He’s better off without me,” Stanley continued. “Everyone is.”

The finality in Stanley’s declaration chilled Richie to the bone. Had Stanley really been feeling this way consistently? Richie had never noticed his frustration with himself, since usually it was directed at Richie when they were around each other. But Stanley’s words and emotion behind them were colder than anything Richie had ever heard him say about anyone else. And Richie would have been lying if he claimed that didn’t scare him. 

Richie scooted closer to Stanley, grabbing his friend’s shoulder. Stanley’s first instinct was to push Richie off of him, but he just turned to look at Richie. “That’s not true. None of us would be better off without you, Stanley. You know how upset Bill’s parents were about losing Georgie, imagine if your parents lost their only son? And Bill cried just from losing you as his boyfriend, think about how he’d feel if you were just fucking gone.”

Richie paused, before finishing his speech to Stanley. “And I would miss you like crazy if you were gone. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Our group isn’t complete without you.”

Wiping his tears, Stanley turned towards Richie, looking him in the eyes. “Bill’s only upset because he doesn’t know what I did yet. He’ll never want to see me again, once he finds out.”

“You don’t know that,” Richie replied. “And even if that’s true, that doesn’t change any of the other things I said. People love you, not because you’re perfect, but because you’re Stanley. And even with your flaws, we still love you.”

Reaching out, Stanley pulled Richie into a hug, squeezing him. Richie was almost struggling for air, but he was so happy that Stanley was reaching out, he didn’t mind. A nagging guilt crept in as he was reminded of Bill hugging him and crying just an hour or so earlier, but Richie tried to push those feelings away. This was about Stanley, not him. 

“I don’t want to tell him,” Stanley said, voice muffled. 

“I know,” Richie replied, rubbing Stanley’s back. “But we have to. It’s the only way to make things even close to right.”

Stan didn’t reply for awhile. He just sat there in Richie arms, feeling mildly relaxed and rested for the first time all day. He pulled out of the embrace and looked at Richie. “You’re right. Can it wait until tomorrow, though?” Stan asked, earnestly wondering, eyes red and clearly exhausted from the events of the day.

Richie nodded. “Yeah, tomorrow it is,” he replied, as Stanley fell back into his arms.


	4. What Could Have Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan frets over confessing to Bill that he cheated on him, makes some uncomfortable phone calls, and Richie comes over and dreams of what could have been.

Tomorrow came much sooner than Stanley was prepared for. That feeling of unpreparedness was a common one for him, but today more than any other day. Because today was when he’d have to tell Bill that he’d broken up with him because Stanley had made out with Bill’s best friend, Richie Tozier. 

Just thinking about it made Stan sigh, his head pounding from a headache that wouldn’t leave, his stomach turning. He hadn’t eaten anything since he’d gotten home the day before, couldn’t bring himself to. Stanley’s stomach growled, but he didn’t deserve to eat, so he just ignored it.

He needed to call Bill and Richie, to schedule their...talk. Richie had offered to stay the night, after Stan had spent an hour hugging him and crying on his shoulder, but the thought of it made Stanley feel worse than he already did. The boy he cheated with spending the night to comfort him before he had to tell the boy he cheated on about it? That was just too much and Stanley didn’t want to give Bill anything else to be upset about. 

So even if it would have made him feel better, Stanley said he’d spend the night alone, his parents out of town. He knew he needed to be punished and this was the beginning of it. Losing Bill was punishment, sure, as was the guilt he felt as a constant now, but Stanley believed he deserved more self-flagellation than that. And, lucky for him, beating himself up was one of Stanley’s best skills, after years of being taught to feel guilty, mostly by his father. 

Stanley wasn’t worried about being yelled at or Bill being angry. Honestly, Stanley preferred that idea. He had earned anger, frustration, maybe even a punch or two. But the thought of Bill crying because of something he had done, being upset and heartbroken...the mere thought of it was enough that Stanley would rather just leave the state and never look back. 

But he knew it had to be done. Stanley couldn’t run away, as much as he wanted to. And he couldn’t avoid Bill forever, which meant he had to tell him what had happened. Stanley picked up the phone off the receiver, pausing as the red light blinked, indicating there were messages on the machine. Stan hesitated, but decided to give them a listen. 

All of them were Bill, confused, sometimes crying, begging Stan to talk to him. Stanley didn’t listen to them in totality, couldn’t. He’d try, but get through a few seconds until Bill’s voice broke or he pleaded, or he said that he loved him, and that’d be it. Stan would hit the delete button and move onto the next one. And, soon enough, the messages ran out, and it was just a robotic voice telling him they were gone. 

It took some time, Stanley standing there, holding the phone, imagining himself dialing Bill’s number, before he could actually do it. He saw himself pushing the numbers, heard the ringing sound on the other line so many times, he almost tricked himself into thinking he’d done it. Stanley even sat there and cleaned the buttons three times. He needed to stop stalling. So Stanley dialed Bill’s number and waited for him to pick up, tears already threatening to fall. 

“H-hello?” Bill answered, slightly out of breath.

“Hi Bill. It’s Stanley,” he replied, even though he knew that Bill would know from his voice. 

“Hey Stan!” Bill said, hope in his voice that stabbed Stanley in his heart, a tear falling from his left eye. “I’m s-s-so happy you c-called. I left you….”

“Voicemails, yeah, I know, Bill,” Stanley replied, sighing and wiping his eyes before he continued. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you why I was breaking up with you yesterday. Can you come over and we can talk about it?”

“Yeah, okay! I can c-c-come over now, if that w-works,” Bill replied quickly, eager to get a chance to talk, to hear an explanation, and to have an opportunity to get his boyfriend back. 

“Not right now, let’s meet in an hour, okay?” Stanley asserted, still needing to call Richie and get him over there first.

“Okay, I’ll s-s-see you then Stan,” Bill said. An unspoken ‘I love you’ hung in the air, and Stanley knew if he didn’t end the conversation soon, it’d wouldn’t remain that way.

“See you then,” he replied, hanging up before Bill could say anything else. 

Stanley let himself cry for a couple minutes, but couldn’t allow himself to indulge in his grief for long. He still had Richie to call and, while it would be an easier conversation, it still wouldn’t be enjoyable.

Richie’s phone rang for far longer than Stanley would have liked, but the Trashmouth finally answered.

“Heya man, how’s it playin’?” Richie answered, doing one of his stereotypical, stupid voices. 

“Is this how you honestly answer the phone, Richie? You didn’t even know it was me,” Stan replied, the irritation in his voice obvious.

“Jesus, lighten up, Stanley. I knew it was a friend, foes don’t usually call. And I’ve been waiting on this one for today, so it wasn’t too damn hard to figure out. Glad to hear you’re in proper bitchy form.”

“Ugh, whatever. I told Bill to be here in an hour. Can you be here before that?”

Richie’s reply was surprisingly slow. “Uh, can do, Stanley the manly. Your place? I figured we’d go over to his.”

Stanley rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, let’s fill his home with more terrible memories, and ambush him with you coming with me, seemingly for no reason. No, we’re doing it at my place. At the very least, he may never speak to me again and he can just avoid my house and this memory like the plague.”

“Got it. That’s why you’re the brains, Mr. Uris,” Richie said, clearly intended to be one of his voices. Stanley thought it was supposed to be British, but it was so badly done that it was impossible to tell.

In his normal voice, Richie finished with, “I’ll head over there now. See you in a bit.”

Stanley hung up the phone without saying goodbye. He knew he shouldn’t be using Richie as a punching bag. Stan was never really as mad or annoyed at Richie as he seemed. It was him taking out his frustration on himself and Richie just happened to be an easy target, along with being his polar opposite. 

Richie’s whole being seemed to be flaunting exactly what Stanley was trying to avoid. Where Stanley was clean and pristine, Richie was messy and careless. Richie was loud and obnoxious and Stanley had been taught to be respectful and not to bother his parents by making too much noise. Richie was chaos and Stanley was control.

Well, Stanley was supposed to be, but he was supposed to be a lot of things he couldn’t seem to be. Waiting for the boys to arrive made him antsy, so Stanley cleaned his living room, straightening the books on the small bookshelf, anything to keep his hands and mind as occupied as possible. 

Stanley started when he heard a knock at the door, anxiety pooling in his stomach, making him feel sick again. He prayed to God that it was Richie and Bill hadn’t decided to just come over early. Stanley turned the knob and sighed in relief when he saw a giant pair of eyes staring back at him. He pulled Richie into a hug before either of them could even say anything, Stanley happy at the smallest amount of relief he had caused. 

They broke apart, and Richie noticed Stanley was wearing yellow gloves, clearly having been stress cleaning just moments before. “C’mon Stanny, I know we’ve gotta be careful with the touching right now, but I’m not fucking diseased!”

Stan looked at Richie, confused, until he remembered the gloves and rolled his eyes, pulling them off. “They weren’t for you, dipshit, although I probably should wear them around you. You are, by far, the dirtiest thing in this house right now.” 

Normally, Richie would have made a suggestive joke at an easy opener like that but, given the circumstances, he smartly kept it to himself. He expected Stanley to be a weeping mess when he got there, but he had already given a retort back for one of his jokes and was looking at him, a challenge in his eyes, a smile there, too. Even when Stan called him dipshit, it sounded like a pet name with the tone he had used. Richie didn’t want to mess that up. 

And Stanley was grateful to have any foothold onto normal. Making out with Richie had been nice, and then awful, but entirely abnormal. Breaking up with Bill had been horrible, and something Stan had never had to do before, way outside of normal. But Richie being a jerk, complaining and cursing at him? That was something familiar Stanley could sink his teeth into. 

Richie walked in, grabbing himself an apple to snack on from the Uris’ table. The two boys continued arguing and cursing back and forth, neither getting anywhere near the point of today. Richie smiled as Stan hit him with an insult about how he needed to close his mouth when he ate. Once again, Richie suppressed the sexual comeback his brain so desperately wanted to give.

Something about this situation really bummed Richie out. It wasn’t the worst thing, not by far, but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed in what he knew to be fact without even asking. Richie was never going to get to know if Stanley was actually interested in him, or had just made out with him because he was horny. He was never going to be able to flirt with Stanley in a serious way, something Richie had definitely considered, but always figured he’d get shot down. Richie would never get to tell Stan that he was a great kisser or that he’d dreamed about almost that exact scenario before. 

Richie would never tell him he’d always hoped they’d end up together, even though he knew it didn’t make sense. Now, it was all tainted. Stanley smiled at him while insulting him again, and all Richie wanted to do was take his turn pushing Stan up against a wall and kiss the daylights out of him. He wanted to give Stan hickeys and feel his slender frame under him.

But now he knew he couldn’t. Richie could never do that to Bill, and he didn’t think Stanley would be interested in the idea anymore either. He had one moment of bliss with his handsome curly-haired friend, and there would never be a sequel. Richie knew this was really the least of anyone’s concern right now, given the fact that Bill was definitely going to end his life today, but Richie couldn’t help but wish he could go back. Even if he couldn’t change anything, Richie wished he could have just savored the closeness, the sensuality. 

He broke out of his thoughts when he heard the knock at the door. Stanley and Richie had been smiling and laughing, but both their faces fell immediately at the sound. It was finally here. Judgment Day.


	5. Judgment Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley and Richie tell Bill what happened between them. It does not go well.

Bill grabbed his bike from the garage, hopping on and heading the familiar path towards the Uris’ house. Even before he and Stan had started dating, Bill had been over there countless times to play or to pick up Stanley on the way to their chosen destination. Mr. and Mrs. Uris didn’t love children spending too much time at their place, so they generally spent their time elsewhere. But Bill knew the route like the back of his hand and, though his heart was pounding with nervous energy, each revolution of his bike’s wheels taking him on the familiar route made him more and more comfortable. 

Still a touch nervous, Bill rounded the corner to Stanley’s house, excited at the opportunity to talk. It had hurt him so much to lose Stan as his boyfriend, but it was the lack of discussion, the not knowing why, and the lack of ability to fix it. But now, they were going to talk, and Bill was sure that he and Stanley could work it out. 

When Stanley had kissed him, told him he’d had a crush on him for years, Bill was shocked. Stanley had hidden it well and Bill knew because he’d often catch himself staring at Stanley when they were just sitting there, having zoned out. Bill would adjust after he’d realize, try to be casual about it, but it didn’t take long for Bill to realize why that was happening. There was no wonder why his sketches would end up having tight, curly hair and angular jaws and why he’d dream about Stanley arms around him, kissing him on the neck from behind. 

Bill had been falling for him, trying to work up the courage and figure out what words to say, to tell Stanley how he felt when, out of nowhere, Stanley kissed him. It was swift and shocking, but Bill loved it, cherished the memory. He held it dear, replaying it in his head when he missed Georgie, when his parents neglected him, when he felt alone and forgotten by everyone. It reminded him that someone loved him, someone he trusted more than anyone else.

That was what really tore him up the day before, when Stan broke up with him and left. Bill immediately felt the loss of his stability, of the consistent love he felt when he touched Stan, spoke to Stan, or even just reveled in memories of them together. And that moment, when Stanley declared they were over, cracked all of those moments, thoughts and feelings, and left Bill feeling hollow. 

But, as he approached the house, hope was filling his being, his heart so warm, Bill felt like the crack might fuse back together of its own accord. His surety faltered, though, when he saw something he didn’t expect. There was a bike already in front of Stanley’s house. 

It was Richie’s bike. Bill recognized it immediately, all the losers having spent so much time together over the years, Richie, Stan, Bill and Eddie the most time. The detail overwhelmed his thoughts, as Bill tried to fit this fact into a place that made sense in the given situation. But every time he did, it felt like a puzzle piece that just wouldn’t set right. Bill turned it over and over again in his mind, knowing it was there, but also knowing that it didn’t belong. 

As Bill reached the door, he knocked hesitantly. When he arrived, Bill thought he knew what might happen, and now everything felt unsure. The wait for the door to open sped his heartbeat, feeling like an eternity, even if it was less than a minute. 

The door finally opened, Stanley in the door frame. A smile spread across Bill’s face on reflex, and he had to keep himself from wrapping his arms around his friend, breathing him in. But the solemn look on Stanley’s face and the fact that Richie was behind him, pacing in the living room, made Bill’s smile fade. 

Before he could ask, Stanley ushered him in, and Bill walked in mechanically. Stanley continued walking, assuming Bill was following him, until they made it to the couch. Bill sat on one side, Stanley on the other, while Richie stayed standing, still pacing back and forth. 

“D-does he really n-need to be here, S-stanley?” Bill asked, his stutter worsening with his confusion and stress. “I don’t kn-now if he told you I t-told him we are--were dating, b-but he came over t-to comfort me and it j-just came out. I’m sorry I t-told him.”

Richie’s hands flew up to his hair and Stanley shook his head and waved his arms at Bill, silently asking him to stop. Bill was apologizing to him about Richie? This was not what was supposed to be happening and the idea that Bill was saying sorry to him felt wrong and left a horrible taste in his mouth.

“No, no Bill. It’s not about that. I wanted to tell you why I broke up with you yesterday,” Stanley explained, but Bill started talking before he could finish. 

“Yeah, p-please tell me s-so we can fix it, Stanley. W-w-we don’t have to break up. Whatever is g-going on, we can t-talk about it and….”

Tears started to well up in Stanley’s eyes as he watched Bill so earnestly try to fight to stay with him. Bill really cared about him, really wanted him more than Stan would have ever guessed. But he didn’t really know who Stanley was or what he was capable of. And as Bill kept talking, kept begging for a chance, all the disgust and frustration and hatred Stanley had for himself burst out as he yelled, “I made out with Richie!”

Everything in the room seemed to stop, even time, as Bill mouth closed, and Richie’s shuffling feet fell silent, Richie’s eyes filled with terror and locked on Bill, waiting for his next move. At first, Bill’s face remained expressionless, but his brow slowly furrowed in confusion, before smoothing out again. 

“You’re j-j-j-joking, r-right?” Bill pleaded more than asked. 

Richie’s eyes fell to the floor and Stanley shook his head slowly, an unwanted tear slipping out and down his cheek. Bill looked from Stan, up to Richie, who met his gaze, a grimace on his face.

Bill looked down at his hands, which were balled into tight fists now, blinking rapidly, like it might help him process what was happening. His breath was ragged and loud, like a bull about to charge a matador. 

“H-h-how could you d-d-d-do that to m-m-me?” Bill panted as he asked, hurt and confusion clear in his voice. “And with R-r-r-richie? W-w-why would you d-do that?”

Falling with more frequency, tears blurred Stan’s vision as he opened his mouth to explain, or at least respond, but nothing came out the first time. When he tried again, all Stan could say was, “I don’t know, I--”

“You don’t know?” Bill shouted, standing up as he did. “You ch-ch-cheated on m-me and you don’t even kn-now why? Wh-ho are you?” 

Every one of Bill’s words stung, each laced with pain, confusion, and incredulity. Stan knew he deserved it, but that knowledge didn’t make seeing Bill’s love for him crumble in front of his eyes any easier. 

Stanley’s face fell to his head in shame, palms growing wet with his tears. He didn’t notice that Bill was moving now, walking swiftly towards Richie, who held up his hands as he backpedaled towards the wall behind him. Richie hadn’t spoken the entire time, knowing nothing he said would help, and that included this moment, as he hoped Bill wouldn’t hit him, but braced for it anyway, his head turning to one side. 

“And y-y-you knew? At m-m-my house?” Bill asked, even though he knew the answers.

“Only after you told me, Bill. And then I left as fast as I could to talk to Stanley about it because I didn’t know what was fucking going on. That’s why I wanted Eddie to comfort you and not me,” Richie explained, knowing everything he was saying was true and still hating himself as he said it.

“And the hickeys w-w-were from S-s-s….” Bill gave up on saying the name, as his eyes flooded with tears, his voice box choking up. Richie was wearing a sweater that day, the bruises no longer visible, but he nodded and reached up to touch his neck subconsciously. 

“Fuck you,” Bill spit at him, venom in his words as he turned to leave. 

As Bill made his way to the door, Richie started sobbing quietly, slowly falling down the wall Bill had him verbally pinned against. Stanley heard the click of the door opening and looked up suddenly, running to catch Bill before he left. 

Throwing his leg over it to mount his bike, Bill kicked his pedals into place, about to shove off, when he heard Stanley yell after him. His anger was masking his pain at the moment, and Bill glared at his ex-boyfriend, before responding to his pleas to wait. 

“Really? D-do you have m-more to confess to me S-stanley?” Bill’s name on his lips sounded like he was a stranger now. Maybe he was. “I thought you w-were Jewish, not Catholic.” 

“Look, I know you’re mad at me and you have every right to hate me. But don’t hate Richie. He didn’t know about us. It’s not his fault. And you know that as well as I do,” Stan pleaded, hoping he could repair their friendship if nothing else. Not everyone needed to suffer for his mistakes. 

Bill’s frame shook, his eyes narrowed at Stanley, before he responded, “well, unfortunately, you don’t get to ask that of me anymore. You don’t get to ask me for anything.”

And with that, Bill pushed off, pedaling as fast as he could, funneling all his hurt and anger into his bike, tears blurring his vision as he drove home. 

Stanley watched Bill run away from him as quickly as he could, staring until he rounded a bend and was gone from his view. And with that, Stanley felt like he’d loss object permanence for Bill, wondering if he’d ever see him again, and feeling a strange sense of foreboding, like maybe he hadn’t been there at all. That perhaps this was just a terrible dream he’d awake from any moment now. 

But seeing Richie, still crying on his floor as Stan walked in, broke that illusion and any hope it held with it. Stanley simply slumped to the ground and wrapped his arms around Richie, both boys sobbing into each other’s shoulders, wondering hopelessly if things would ever get better for them.


	6. Forgiveness Not Necessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill and Richie talk a week later, trying to clear the air.

As he placed the phone onto the receiver, Richie let out a breath he had been holding. Since The Confrontation, Bill and Richie hadn’t spoken, Richie trying to avoid any more aggression from Bill. He really couldn’t handle Bill being angry at him. 

It hurt, it scared him and it was such a stark contrast to Bill’s normal attitude that it just made him worried. Worried that Bill would settle into it and that the anger would consume who he used to be and simultaneously worried that it wasn’t anything new. Richie worried that this anger was Bill’s undercurrent, bubbling below the surface and just waiting for a time to be let out. 

But Bill had just called Richie, sounding calm, quiet even, asking him if he’d be willing to come over and talk. It had been a week since Bill had left him and Stanley crying on the floor, a horrible week, where Richie had avoided all of the losers besides Stan, just to make sure he didn’t run into Bill. It was easier to do now, since it was summer, but school would be starting up again and Richie hoped, possibly in vain, that things could return to some semblance of normal before then. 

And even though he was scared and worried, Richie had missed Bill. Each of the losers got something from their individual friendships with each other that they couldn’t get elsewhere. And from Bill, Richie got legitimate laughs for his jokes and a feeling of like everything would be okay. 

So Richie made his way to Bill’s house, thoughts distracting him from the drive he knew by heart. His arrival at the Denbroughs’ seemed almost instantaneous, Richie’s thoughts and worries disabling his sense of the passage of time and distance. He placed his bike next to Bill’s on the side of the house and walked to the door, heart pounding.

This would be good, right? Talking would be good. Bill had definitely not invited him over to yell and actually punch him this time...right?

He couldn’t be sure, but as the door open, and Richie saw Bill looking sorrowful, he was pretty sure Bill wasn’t in the punching mood. Bill didn’t greet so much as wave Richie in, silently instructing him to enter the house.

Richie followed behind Bill up the stairs and to the right, into his bedroom and sat on the bed while Bill closed the door behind them. 

“I’m sorry,” Bill said softly, his expression haggard and supplicating. 

His normally large eyes grew even wider under his magnifying lenses as Richie’s mouth fell open in surprise. He didn’t know what talk meant exactly, but Richie had never assumed it would mean Bill apologizing. “What?” was Richie’s only reply, his confusion genuine. 

Bill moved to sit next to his friend on the bed, looked him in the eye, and with more conviction repeated himself. “I’m s-sorry. It wasn’t your fault and I b-blamed you anyway and I sh-shouldn’t have told you to fuck off and I’m sorry.”

An incredulous look on his face, Richie moved closed to Bill, reaching out to touch his friend reassuringly before stopping himself. Probably not the time. “Bill, you don’t need to be sorry. I completely understand why you reacted that way. Hell, I would have punched me. You don’t need to be sorry. And I should have just fucking told you the truth when I was here. I’m sorry for that.”

Shaking his head, Bill replied, “no, you did the r-right thing, Richie. I would have been way m-more angry if I heard about it from you instead of f-from Stanley. And you don’t need to be sorry either.”

Richie laughed lightly and said, “good, then we both won’t be sorry,” earning a small smile from Bill. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, both boys unsure now of what to do. Tension still hung in the air, subjects unbroached and hanging there, but neither wanted to do anything to mess up their current truce. But Richie, of course, broke the silence first.

“Have you talked to him?” Richie asked. He figured Stanley probably would have told him if he and Bill had been talking again, but Richie also avoided the topic, not wanting to bring Stan any more stress or sadness than he already had. 

Bill shook his head, taking a deep breath. It was clear that, despite the week to clear his head, even just thinking about Stanley and what had happened was stressful and overwhelming for Bill. Richie looked away, feeling guilt rise up in him again. He knew it wasn’t actually his fault, but clearly Bill had really loved Stanley, and it hurt to see his friend is pain. 

“I d-don’t think I can. Not right now,” Bill replied slowly, struggling from emotions more than his stutter to get the words out. 

Richie nodded, looking down at his hands, but felt something shift in the air. He looked back up to see Bill staring at him, his look probing, as if Bill could discover the answer to an unspoken question just by looking at Richie for long enough. 

“What is it?” Richie asked, curious and nervous. 

Bill sighed and looked away, before finally asking, “are you and S-stan...together?”

Richie’s hand clapped on Bill’s shoulder, causing him to make eye contact with Richie, before he finally answered, “no, we’re not Bill. Of course not. Stanley doesn’t think of me like that. And we would never do that to you.”

It was only then that Richie realized he had touched Bill and they probably weren’t at the touching stage of their revived friendship just yet, so he removed his hand sheepishly. But with no warning, Bill reached over to wrap his arms around Richie, hugging him tightly. Immediately melting at the familiar touch, Richie dug his head into Bill’s shoulder, tears of relief falling onto Bill’s shirt. 

They stayed that way until Richie felt more than heard Bill mumble something to him. He pulled away, righting himself, and knit his eyebrows together, a question written clearly on his face. Bill wiped his cheeks, tears wet on his face too, before he repeated himself. 

“I missed you,” he said, a small smile on his face. 

Richie grinned mischievously, before responding, “getting gay for me now, Denbrough?” Bill rolled his eyes, pushing Richie playfully over on the bed, before Richie threw up his hands to surrender. 

“I missed you, too,” he replied earnestly, adjusting his glasses instead of looking at his friend directly. 

They were silent for a few moments, just enjoying sharing a familiar space with a familiar friend, before Richie saw Bill’s face fall from contented to melancholic again. Richie nudged Bill with his shoulder before asking, “what’s the matter, Big Bill?”

The side of Bill’s mouth turned up at the nickname, but faded as soon as he opened his mouth. “Just...I don’t get why Stanley k-k-kissed you, if he didn’t w-want to date you. Why would he do that to me?”

Richie felt two daggers in his chest; one was the fact that Bill was right, as Richie had said it earlier himself, that Stanley didn’t seem to want to date him. And even if it might have been what Richie had longed for, it was time for that dream to die. 

The second dagger was from the soft, pained way Bill asked the question, not to Richie, but to the universe, begging for an answer that would somehow make him understand. Not okay with the situation, surely not, but Bill was reaching out just trying to get how he and Stanley had gone from blissfully in puppy love to the betrayal and agony he was feeling now. 

Sighing, Richie put his hand on Bill’s shoulder again, this time with confidence, and replied, “I don’t think it was about me or you, Billy. Stan the man seems to be having trouble with himself and kept going on about how he needed to be perfect and shit. I think the pressure of everything just got to him.”

Wiping his nose, Bill kept his gaze trained to the ground as he asked, “s-so you don’t think it w-was about me? About s-something I did, or should have d-done?”

“I know it’s not, Bill,” Richie answered, squeezing his friend’s shoulder as he explained. Bill looked up at him finally, as he continued. “Stan told me you were great, a fucking perfect boyfriend, even.” 

 

Richie bit his lip, unsure if he should say what he wanted to next since he and Bill had just made up and he really didn’t want to jeopardize that for a dangerous comment. But he was known for his loud mouth and lack of filter for no reason, and Richie really felt it was important to say, for the sake of everyone. 

“You really should talk to Stan. Maybe now that the heat of the moment is over, you guys can have an actual discussion about it. You know, like fucking adults.”

He nudged Bill again, who feigned a smile, but the somber expression on Bill’s face at even the idea of talking to Stanley was fixed there. “Maybe someday. I don’t think it’ll be s-soon, though.”

“That’s fair,” Richie said, his hand falling off of Bill’s shoulder as he stood up. He stretched while asking, “can we go to the quarry or something? All this emotional shit is making me feel like a girl. I need some high adrenaline action!”

Bill shook his head at his ridiculous friend, but smiled and got up to follow him. “R-race you down the stairs!” he yelled, already running for the door before Richie could even start.

“You cheating asshole!” Richie called as he ran, feeling happier than he had in what felt like forever.


	7. Conclusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley and Bill finally talk about what happened.

Stanley sat at his desk, pulling the page to change the date on his desk calendar, sighing at the number it revealed. It had been two months since Bill and Stanley had broken up and then had their confrontation. And for a couple weeks, Stanley had been in the worst shape of his life. He was inconsolable, drowning in self-hate and in a state of total despair. 

But with time, things started looking up. Stanley spoke to his parents about how he often felt overwhelming pressure, from them and from himself, to be perfect. And, surprisingly to him, they really listened and took him to a doctor, who referred him to a psychiatrist, who informed him that he had OCPD.

And suddenly, life felt a lot more hopeful. Even just knowing there were other people who felt the way that he did on a regular basis was a huge comfort. But the biggest source of strength and determination for Stanley was that he could actually do something about it. He had therapy sessions and a regiment that seemed to be working for him. 

When Stanley cheated on Bill and felt his relationship implode, some part of him, a dark and toxic voice, told him that he’d never be happy again. And, if he was being honest with himself, Stanley hadn’t felt his heart soar the way he would sometimes with Bill since their break up. However, Stan did feel something deeply lacking in his life before. Contentment. 

And the longer Stanley felt content, content with his cleanliness, with his habits and hobbies, with therapy, with his parents and with himself, the more he felt like this was the way he was always supposed to feel.

It still hurt that he couldn’t hang out with the losers all together. Stanley didn’t feel like that was fair to Bill since he was the one who had made the mistake. But he also came to believe that time alone was for a good purpose. Stan felt he needed the separation to see things more clearly, and his therapist was a large part of that.

That didn’t mean that Stanley wasn’t shocked and nervous, however, when Bill asked if he could come over so they could talk. A part of Stanley had believed that Bill would never speak to him again. And Stanley knew this would be beneficial for both of them, hopefully helping them heal and get back to normal, as Richie kept spouting like the optimistic moron that he was.

However, as the day approached, Stanley couldn’t help but feel slightly hopeful that the dust had cleared. He tried to quash that hope, finding it unwarranted and unproductive, but hope was like a cockroach. It was hard to catch and just wouldn’t die.

Heart racing at the knocking on the door, Stan took a deep breath before making his way over to open it. Bill was on the other side, clear as day, looking serious and slightly somber. Stanley wondered for a moment if that was just the general look his face was projecting these days. He hoped silently that it was specifically reserved for him and this day.

Stanley hadn’t seen Bill, besides in his dreams, for months. He looked mostly the same, besides a new small scar under his right ear, still new and fairly pink. Something in Stan wanted to reach out and caress it, but he fought the urge. Stan led them to the couch, sitting in the same spots they had before.

Silence pervaded the room, until Bill simply said, “you look good.”

The side of Stanley’s mouth lifted up into a half smile as Stanley replied, “thanks. You look good, too, Bill.”

Shaking his head, Bill looked Stanley up and down. “No, not like you do. You look...better. Happy.”

Stanley wondered how obvious it was, the changes he’d been feeling inside on his appearance. He mused if it was clear as day or if Bill just knew him that well. Richie hadn’t said anything, but that wasn’t surprising to him. Richie had been there, through the process, so he’d probably acclimated to the change. Bill was getting it all at once.

“Well, it turns out I have Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder, which basically just means all my organization and the need to feel perfect are my brain kind of messing up. So I’ve been seeing a therapist, and I think it’s been helping,” Stanley explained. 

Bill nodded, concern clear in his eyes. For Stanley? “W-well I’m glad it’s h-helping. What do you do?”

Shrugging, Stanley replied, “mostly I talk about how I am feeling and how my thinking patterns have been and we go from there. She’s given me a few coping mechanisms and I keep a journal now, to help process everything.”

“R-richie mentioned something about you feeling like you needed to be p-perfect. And that it had to do with you k-kissing him?” Bill questioned, his intentions clear. Bill wasn’t accusing or berating. He just wanted some kind of answer for Stanley’s actions.

Letting out a slow breath, Stanley looked down, before saying, “I guess so, yeah. I just felt like you were a perfect boyfriend, and I couldn’t be as good of a boyfriend as you deserved. And then that plus me feeling bad for being attracted to other people compounded into me kissing Richie and sabotaging everything. As far as I can tell, self-destructive behavior is kind of my brain’s first response when it realizes I can’t accomplish it’s perfection objectives. It’s something I have to push through to make better choices, but I didn’t know how to do it until recently. This is an explanation, not an excuse, I promise. I’m really sorry, Bill.”

Stanley finally looked up, just in time to see Bill moving towards him. Bill pulled Stanley in for a hug, but Stan remained stiff, arms at his sides. Stanley felt like he was dreaming, he must have been. There was no way this was really happening right now, that Bill Denbrough, whose heart he had smashed to pieces with his stupid mistakes, was hugging him right now. 

But he was because that was the kind of guy Bill was. A loving, forgiving, perfect guy. Stanley kicked himself for the millionth time for ever doing anything to lose him, even if Bill deserved better than Stan. There was no way he was gonna do better than Bill, and Stan knew it. 

Eventually, Stan resigned himself to the touch, relaxing into it and wrapping his arms around Bill, too. They stayed that way for longer than Stanley expected, a hug turning into just holding each other. Silence hung in the air, but the emotions shifted until Stanley was pretty sure they were both feeling the same thing, regret over losing each other. 

Stanley felt Bill’s grip loosening, so he started to pull back and lower his arms, but was surprised when his ex-boyfriend didn’t get farther away. Instead, he looked at Stan for just a second, and moved forward, placing his lips on Stanley’s in a gentle kiss before he could even ask Bill what he was doing. 

The kiss was gentle and surprisingly long for its lack of progression. Neither boy was moving, just frozen in time for a moment, lips together, lingering there. It was as if, for just a moment, they were transported back in time, before Stanley had kissed Richie, and both boys reveled in the sweetness, relishing what was lost for just one more moment.

Finally, Bill pulled away, and Stan felt his breath hitch before he asked, “what was that for?”

Shrugging, Bill replied, “I didn’t get to kiss you g-goodbye. S-sorry, I should have asked.”

“No, Bill, it’s fine. Nice even,” Stan added, smiling at Bill. 

Bill nodded, looking at Stanley lips before he looked away, and Stanley could tell he was thinking about Stan and Richie kissing. And, at this point, Stan didn’t really know what else to say. He’d bore his soul to Bill already and Stan realized now that there was no solution. He couldn’t fix Bill’s pain and nothing he could say could erase it. Only time could heal them now. 

“I should go,” Bill said, pulling Stanley out of his thoughts. Stan nodded, not agreeing but acknowledging his wishes. 

Stanley followed Bill to the door, opening it for Bill and going to close it, but stopped when he saw Bill turn around. Through the half-closed door, Bill looked Stanley in the eye and simply said, “I loved you.”

The past tense stung, even though Stan knew it shouldn’t have. The sentiment felt like someone was squeezing his heart, his pulse going into overdrive as the statement gave Stanley goosebumps, a chill washing over him. 

“I loved you, too, Bill,” Stanley replied and Bill nodded, his eyes growing glossy with what would soon be tears. 

“I’ll see you on Friday,” Bill said. Stanley looked confused, so Bill continued. “We’re doing movie night at my place. All the losers,” he finished, the words ‘including you,’ implied, but there in the silence. 

Stan smiled, a look of awestruck amazement on his face. “Really?” Stan couldn’t stop himself from asking, even though he didn’t want to give Bill even a chance at taking it back.

Bill smiled softly, and said, “yeah, if you can m-make it?”

“Of course. I’ll be there,” Stanley answered, feeling as if Bill had just given him the world in his gesture of forgiveness. Maybe Richie wasn’t wrong for chattering on about how he was sure they could get back to the way they were. 

For the first time in months, Stan really believed that things were reparable, that their friendship might find a way to survive. And he knew that Bill didn’t hate him and had really loved him. Maybe not everything Stan touched would turn to dust.

And if Bill could forgive Stanley, maybe he could learn how to forgive himself.


End file.
